"Very good. I'm glad to have them. The cow seems reasonably priced, for a Jersey."
"It is. Jest extror'nary!" exclaimed Peggy, reassured.
"And your people have all done work of an unusual character in a painstaking manner. I am very much pleased. There seems to be a hundred and forty dollars my due, remaining from the five hundred I sent you."
"Here it is, sir," responded McNutt, taking the money from his pocket-book. In another place he had more money, which he had intended to pay if the smaller bill had been presented.
Uncle John took the money.
"You are an honest fellow, McNutt," said he. "I hadn't expected a dollar back, for folks usually take advantage of a stranger if he gives them half a chance. So I thank you for your honesty as well as for your services. Good morning."
The agent was thoroughly ashamed of himself. To be "sech a duffer" as to return that money, when by means of a little strategy he might have kept it, made him feel both humiliated and indignant. A hundred and forty dollars; When would he have a chance to get such a windfall again? Pah! he was a fool—to copy his identical thoughts: "a gol dum blithering idjit!"
All the way home he reflected dismally upon his lack of business foresight, and strove to plan ways to get money "out'n thet easy mark."
"Didn't the man rob you, Uncle?" asked Louise, when the agent had disappeared.
"Yes, dear; but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I realized it."